A Heart that Feels Not Is Dead
by plummet
Summary: A true Spartan does not express emotion.  Emotions are weak...or are they?  This is the story of how a young woman, with the help of the gods themselves, changes not only the life of one Spartan king, but of all of Sparta. LeonidasOC
1. Prologue

**plummet: **Hey all. This is my very first serious fan fiction, so I apologize if it's a complete flop. -sheepish grin- I know y'all who've been reading my Sky High fan fic might be a little miffed I'm writing this instead of updating that, but…I can't help it. For real, plot bunnies are uberly unforgiving. Lol.

**disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters of the movie 300, nor those that actually existed in the time of Ancient Greece, and furthermore, I'm not claiming that any of the following is historically accurate. XD However, I do own my character Sophronia and her family. Well actually, that isn't so for her brother, Alec, who's actually a kid in the movie who…Well, heh, I really shouldn't say, else I ruin it for you...

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**_A Heart that Feels not is Dead_**

_Prologue_

_It was almost evening, the sun just starting to set on the horizon. In a village just a few miles outside of the main city-state of Sparta, helots young and old scurried to finish up the last tasks of the day before their only source of light faded. However, there was someone on this day who was determined to avoid work of all forms…_

_A curly, golden-haired youth peaked his head out from behind a house, an impish grin lighting up face as he spotted a dark-haired young woman walking past his hiding place. He couldn't resist letting out a giggle. She'd never find him…Suddenly, the young woman's head whipped around in his direction, a smirk on her face. _

"_Come on out, Alec. I know you're there," she said, a triumphant smile gracing her face as the youth, now known as Alec, stepped out into the waning sunlight._

_Alec pouted cutely, hands on his hips. "Aw, Sophronia…How did you find me?"_

"_I'm not deaf, you know. I can hear your laughter a mile away," she stated. Smiling gently, she continued, "Now come on, we have to help mother clean the stables, and then it's bed time." When Alec again made to avoid her, she tried a compromise. Crouching down, she said complacently, "Here, you can ride there on my back."_

_Alec's eyes lit up at the prospect. "Okay, sis'!" he shouted cheerily, climbing atop her back with all the innocent enthusiasm of a seven year-old boy._

_Sophronia just shook her head at his antics as she stood up with him on board and disappeared around the bend in the dirt road, Alec bouncing up and down the whole time to a tune only he could hear._

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_Sophronia awoke from her slumber to a searing heat and ear-piercing screams. She immediately covered her face protectively and rolled off her bed and onto the ground, keeping low to avoid inhaling the smoke. Her house was on fire._

_Tremors shook the ground accompanied by ferocious growling and more sickening noises Sophronia couldn't, and wouldn't, even think about. Trembling hands grabbed the sheathed sword from underneath her pillow and strapped it to her waste in quick, practiced motions. Judging by whatever monster(s) the sounds came from, she would need it later on. Her heart pounding faster and harder than a ceremonial drum, she desperately crawled out into the hallway in search of her parents and Alec. _

_Into her parents' room she crawled first, for it was the one directly across from hers. The fire had already almost devoured their room, but thank the gods, they were not in it. Sophronia then made her way to Alec's room which was equally flame-filled and empty. Why did they leave without waking her?_

"_Sophronia, help!" Alec shouted, silencing her selfish thoughts. It sounded like he was in a great deal of pain._

"_I'm coming Alec, hold on!" Sophronia shouted back._

'_Forget crawling,' she thought to herself. She hoisted herself onto her feet despite the thick, soot-laced smoke and the unbearable heat and ran with all the might she possessed into the main room. Her eyes widened. Alec was trapped beneath a wooden ceiling beam._

_His eyes widened with desperation as he spotted her, "Help me, please!"_

_With strength Sophronia didn't know she possessed, she managed to lift the beam, flames licking at her hands, just long enough for Alec to crawl out. She scooped him up into her arms, hands bleeding, and ran out of the house and into the street, only to stop dead…_

_One of the most hideous and terrifying creatures Sophronia and Alec had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on blocked their path a few yards ahead, its eyes as red and ferocious as the pits of Hell itself. It smirked at them, showing layers of razor sharp teeth. Sophronia, glad now for all the training she went through as a child, set her face into a determined scowl. _

_She set Alec down behind her onto his trembling legs as the monster crept ever closer, stalking its prey, and whispered, unknowingly, the last word she would ever speak to him, "Run!"_

_Alec, a smart child, knew his sister would not waver in her decision, and with tears in his eyes of both sadness and fear, he ran for all he was worth in the direction of the hills in the distance. _

_Unsheathing her sword, Sophronia got into a fighting stance and pointed her weapon in the direction of the monster. If possible, its mouth smirked wider, whether in mockery or anticipation of the fight to come, Sophronia did not know._

"_Come and get me if you dare, you monster!" she shouted with all the forcefulness she could muster in the face of such a nightmarish creature._

_Her goading was all it took for the creature to charge at her, its huge, misshapen feet making deep imprints in the ground as it ran. With a quick intake of breath, Sophronia swung her sword at its head as it came within arms reach. It dodged her attack skillfully, however, and countered with one of its own, its clawed arm sweeping downward with such speed and strength, she couldn't dodge. The force of its blow sent her flying into the stable to her right, the flaming, dilapidated structure collapsing on her and rendering her unconscious._

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**helot**: a farmer/serf. A serf is more or less a partially enslaved farmer who grows produce for the main city-state. They are forced to give most of their produce to the city-state and are only able to keep enough to feed themselves and their families.

**plummet:** Well, I hope y'all enjoyed chapter one. Promise there'll be some gorgeous Spartan men in the next chatper, lol. R&R, pwease. Lemme know if I should continue this...


	2. Divine Interference

**plummet:** I don't think I realized how incredibly difficult it's going to be to pull off this pairing…Lol. All y'all, wish me luck. XD

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing that appears out of the ordinary…like your face! -falls over- Juuuust kidding x 1000. Lol.

**[A/N:** Sorry if I annoyed anyone with this repost...There were a few errors, though I couldn't find many missing words...I might've been reading over them, though. Lol, I do that a lot...

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_**A Heart that Feels Not is Dead**_

**Chapter One: **Divine Interference

Forever beautiful and warm was Mount Olympus, the home of the gods. The flowers were always in bloom, and the birds always singing; it was an eternal spring, an utter utopia. The Olympian goddess Artemis stood on the southernmost peak of that very mountain, her long, thick hair blowing about her face gently with an impossibly bright shine of health. Her brow furrowed in thought, and a frown pulled at the corners of her perfect, pink mouth as she gazed down upon the happenings of the mortal realm.

"You should not frown, sister; you will get wrinkles," Apollo said jokingly, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

Artemis, not startled in the least by her brother's sudden appearance, looked over her shoulder at him and smiled sadly in response, turning her head slowly back to its original focal point. Despite rumors of her seriousness, she was usually quite jovial, and her gloominess had Apollo worried.

Looking in his sister's general line of sight, Apollo attempted to spot what had so captivated her, but failed. He, after all, had no idea what he was looking for.

"What is happening in the mortal realm that has you so troubled?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

Artemis' frowned deepened, and it looked to Apollo as if she was debating on whether or not to tell him the truth. After a few seconds of indecision, she spoke.

"Brother…" Artemis started, skillfully avoiding his question with another one. "Do you think it would be alright, just this once, to alter mortal history-," Apollo looked ready to vehemently object at that, but Artemis put up her hand, silently asking him to hear her out, "-if it were for the greater good?"

Apollo's eyes softened somewhat. He always had a weak spot for his older sister. Despite their differences, family was family, and he found himself hard-pressed to deny her anything when she gazed upon him with such a look of forlornness.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked breathily, with just a hint of weariness. His compassionate nature had already coerced him into helping her.

"Well…" Artemis began tentatively, "I have always cared a great deal for the mortals of Sparta, for the men there take very good care of their women and give them the freedoms they deserve…" Apollo nodded to show he was listening. "…and this war that is to happen, the one between the Spartans and the Persians…It has my emotions reeking havoc on my mind day and night..."

Apollo nodded again in understanding, squeezing his sister's shoulder gently in an attempt to comfort her. "Yes, I can see why the 300's fate bothers you so, but I know you are well aware, sister, that father has forbid us from meddling in the affairs of mortals…and furthermore, are you prepared for the repercussions should whatever you are planning fall to ruin?"

Artemis sighed, shrugging off her brother's comforting hand and turning to face him completely in the process. "I figured you would say something along those lines…but I know that what I have in mind will be eons better for everyone, us gods included, in the long run."

"Alright then, let me hear it," her brother demanded playfully, shoving her lightly. "I am dying to know what brilliant thoughts are brewing in that shrewd and calculating little mind of yours."

Artemis shook her head with a smile. Honestly, she was shocked he was not even the smallest bit angry. After all, the war was being fought during the time of the Carneia, his very own holiday.

"I am going to request an audience with father," Artemis said with resolve. "If you come with me, perhaps he will let you stay long enough to find out." Winking at him with a little wave of farewell, she disappeared in a flash of moonlight and stardust.

Before Apollo himself followed after his sister, he couldn't help rolling his eyes skyward in exasperation. Mortal or immortal, the mood swings of women never ceased to amaze him.

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The sky over Greece was dark, dreary and foreboding, not a very encouraging sight for King Leonidas of Sparta and his three hundred soldiers as they made their way toward the Hot Gates. Though, not affected in the least bit by the ominous atmosphere, the Spartans marched on, their sandals squelching slightly with every step, crimson capes billowing out behind them in the steady wind that whispered loudly of future blood shed. All of the soldiers were grinning from ear to ear, beyond eager for the battle to come. All of them, that is, except the king.

Well, if you did not know him well enough, you would say he was just as excited as everyone else. He wore a slight smirk on his regally handsome face, his head held high with dignity, his shoulders back as he walked on with confidence...However, his expressive eyes gave him away: a dark, troubled green. He prided himself in being able to assess every situation accurately, and he knew, deep within his heart, that he and his men would not be returning home. Well, he knew at least that he would not be. The oracle had predicted the destruction of either Sparta or a Spartan king should a war be fought during the Carneia, and it would certainly not be Sparta if he had anything to say about it…

He shook his head sadly. It did not have to be this way…They would not be up against such impossible odds if his councilmen and advisors had only listened to reason…They had passed judgment on him without even hearing a word of explanation pass from his lips! Really, what was he to do when his very own advisors and councilmen would not listen to him? And what were they thinking? Did they really expect that he and his army would remain obediently within the confines Sparta and pretend that a million or more Persians were _not _descending upon them, keen on their total annihilation?

Leonidas' fist clenched so tightly he almost drew blood, though his face betrayed nothing of his intense, burning anger.

Did they no longer trust the reasoning of their king? Did they not understand that a king like King Xerxes, who was willing to kill even his own men for victory, was not to be trusted?

His eyes hardened. He knew, however, their loyalty had mostly been swayed by the adder-tongued Theron who had been speaking poorly of him since his coronation. Not that he cared what was said about him by that vermin, of course. He knew everyone, even fellow councilmen, were critics. However, when opinions formed by bitterness and jealousy were construed into condemning statements of supposed 'truth,' a line had to be drawn. He was the king, and he at least deserved attention and respect when something as serious as war lurked in the immediate future. That, unfortunately and most obviously, had not been granted…

A sudden silence descended upon his ears, and Leonidas blinked a few times, gazing around at his stationary warriors, not sure when he himself had stopped moving. It was times like these, he mused, that his analytical mind was both a blessing and a curse. He was sure, if he were any less of a thinker, he would go insane from the tension and anxiety that came along with his profession, but…it did tend to make him a tad unaware of his surroundings.

"My king, look!" Astinos shouted suddenly, pointing to something on the horizon.

Leonidas' eyes followed to where he pointed, and he did not like what he saw, not at all. Thick, black smoke laced the skyline, right over the location of one of the Spartan outer villages…Or rather, judging by the intensity of the smoke, where one of the villages _used_ to be.

The soldiers, grim-faced now, looked to Leonidas for orders. They would not investigate the scene if their king thought it would slow their progress.

Leonidas gave an almost imperceptible nod, signaling that they would, in fact, investigate. The soldiers nodded back, to show they understood, and they started towards the smoking village, their king taking up the rear.

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**plummet:** Well, I realized I have to watch the movie again if I'm going to analyze it this closely in my writing…XD R&R, please….and I'll give y'all smexy Spartan plushies! -le thumbs up-


	3. Have the Gods No Mercy?

**plummet:** Here's chapter two. I know it's detailed x 1000. Lol, I get really into it when I write.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing copyrighted, blah, blah-blah…blahty-blah. XD

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_**A Heart that Feels Not Is Dead**_

**Chapter Two:** Have the Gods No Mercy?

It took them but a few minutes to arrive on the scene, and whatever they had been expecting, it certainly wasn't what they found. Most of the houses had already been burnt to ashes, and those that weren't existed only as giant heaps of splintered, blackened wood. The marketplace, which had, at one time, been filled with delicious food stuffs and various other material goods, was charred beyond recognition. Gory, smoking animal corpses were littered everywhere, flies feeding off of their remains…Even with the majority of the village destroyed, though, some giant flames still lived, working on the task of devouring it completely.

Stelios voiced what they were all thinking, "What happened here? Where are all the people?"

"Persians," Leonidas uttered quietly, gazing around at the destruction that surrounded them.

"I put there number at around twenty," the captain stated, his countenance drawn.

The king whispered with quiet intensity, "A scouting parting…" Crouching down next to the unmistakably dead body of a horse, he spotted a strangely shaped footprint. He furrowed his brow in thought, tracing the footprint's outline in morbid fascination. "But these footprints…"

Leonidas and Amycus locked gazes, their eyes mirroring their fears. Whatever left that particular imprint in the ground was most certainly _not_ human…

Suddenly, a flame shot up from inside a mountain of rubble; it collapsed in on itself, causing pots and things originally nestled within the ashes to tumble down noisily to the ground. Two Spartan soldiers, previously shielded by the rubble, were revealed to the rest of the party sporting identically sheepish expressions. The sight would have been a funny one if the situation was not so somber.

"Behind you!" someone shouted.

The Spartan army, so rigorously trained, fell into their fighting stances in unison, raising their shields up and pointing their spears expertly in the direction of the hills in the distance.

It appeared, at first, as if a giant creature was approaching them, so monstrous was its shadow made by the light of the burning village. But soon enough, the shadow began shrinking as it crept closer, leaving in its wake the form of a young boy.

He walked slowly and unsteadily towards them, his face blank as if he was slowly being drained of his life spirit, which was plausible, considering the state he was in. His clothes were torn, blood-stained, and burnt; his hair: a scraggly, blood-matted mess; his face: scorched black from the fire. His condition pained the hearts of the Spartan warriors, as he reminded them of their own beloved sons…

"It's a child!" Stelios cried. The soldiers immediately lowered their weapons and shields, allowing the child to pass safely through their ranks as he approached Leonidas.

All of the soldiers stared at the boy, compassion and pity shining in their eyes. When he reached the king, he promptly fainted. Luckily, though, Leonidas' quick reflexes allowed him to catch the boy before he bit the ground. Leonidas cradled the boy's limp body closer to him, thinking he was surely dead. But then, his eyes opened slightly, and he began to speak.

"It's quiet now…" he said, whisper-soft. "They…they came with beasts from the blackness…with their claws and fangs, they grabbed them…everyone, but me…"

That was all the poor boy had the energy to say before his body went limp in Leonidas' arms, his soul passing to the heavens. Silently seething, Leonidas adjusted the youth's body in his arms. This boy was an innocent! The barbarians that did this would pay. The only fit payment: their blood on his hands…

"The villagers…I've found them," said Dilios, his voice trembling slightly.

King Leonidas' head slowly looked up, his fury and disgust multiplying tenfold. He stood up, the boy still in his arms, and joined the rest of his horrified party in front of a tree…constructed of visciously impaled corpses.

Stelios shook his head. "Have the gods no mercy?" he asked, almost choking on the intensity of his emotion.

The captain of the Arcadians, whose army had just caught up with the Spartans a few moments before, looked beyond terrified at the spectacle before him. "We are doomed…"

"Quiet yourself," Amycus practically spat back at him, not in the mood to hear his pessimistic sentiments.

Swallowing noticeably, the Arcadian captain, Thenos, spoke, "The child speaks of the Persian ghosts from the ancient times. They are the hunters of men's souls. They cannot be killed or defeated. Not this darkness…Not these immortals…"

"Immortals…" Leonidas formed the word as if it was the vilest one in existence. "We will put their name to the test." He smirked devilishly, already picturing his means of revenge…

A light descended from the sky so suddenly and unexpectedly it made even the hearts of the Spartan soldiers stop beating. It shone like a beacon in the darkness of the night, millions of times brighter than even the firelight. Nothing had ever terrified the Spartans before, but this…This divine light was something that even they feared.

Its brightness highlighted a spot of rubble on the king's left, and he, after handing the boy's corpse gently over to Amycus, approached it in awe, his soldiers frozen in place behind him. Leonidas reached his hand out painfully slow, and when the light touched him, it flashed a blinding white and then disappeared. He examined his hand in amazement. Surely, he had touched the light from heaven itself!

But then, something in the rubble moved, and he looked down, spotting nothing else but…a human hand. The small, dainty hand, despite the palm being terribly burnt and bloody, was still recognizable as belonging to a young woman or a small child.

'_Grab her hand, Leonidas…' _a feminine voice whispered in his mind. Oddly, it did not frighten him, but he was still reluctant to obey it. _'Trust me…' _it said again, and this time, Leonidas could not fight the urge to comply.

When he grabbed her hand, he was surprised it squeezed back weakly, showing him that she was still, indeed, very much alive.

"She lives!" Leonidas exclaimed with unbidden shock.

He let her hand drop and began to comb frantically through the remains of what appeared to have once been a stable. Stelios, Dilios, and Astinos jogged over to him to help, everyone else looking on, helplessly. Their combined efforts revealed the battered body of a young woman. Leonidas gathered her up into his arms effortlessly – she was surprisingly light – and began to assess her injuries.

Her dark, almost black hair was matted with dried blood and ash, her entire body stained a grayish-black from the ashes. Her clothes were in complete shambles, barely covering her womanly assets. Small abrasions were littered across her body, a particularly nasty one on the right side of her cheek; it would scar most terribly. Most worrisome of her wounds, though, was the one to her temple that was enough to kill any mortal man, and yet…here she was, still breathing…albeit shallowly, but still breathing.

No one dared move a muscle or even breathe, so afraid were they that any sudden movement would cause her to die like the boy before her; they had seen enough death for one day.

But then, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. Dazed and confused, she gazed up at Leonidas with the most breathtaking eyes he had ever seen. They were blue, green, and golden-brown all at once; both irises were composed of blue and green flecks, and her pupils were outlined with the golden-brown…Everything, his sadness, his pain, his fear, faded away to nothing as he gazed into those eyes. Only when she spoke did his sense return to him.

"Have you found my brother…?" she asked, her soft voice hoarse with pain.

"I do not know what your brother looks like, milady," the king answered softly, his voice threaded with undertones of compassion. He knew that, whoever her brother was, he had not survived this night.

"He is…very small and-" she coughed violently from the ash no doubt inhabiting her lungs, her chest heaving, but still, she pressed on, "-and youthful with…curly, blond hair…" She locked eyes with him, her gaze unwavering. "A creature from the pits of…hell itself threatened us, so I…sent him to hide…in the hills while I…stayed behind as a distraction…"

Leonidas knew, immediately, who it was she referred to…the young boy. As everyone else witnessing the scene realized the same, a few soft gasps were heard.

He closed his eyes briefly to gather his courage. "Yes, milady, I have seen your brother...Although, I regret to inform you, he is no longer among the living…"

Her impossibly beautiful eyes welled up with tears. "It…it cannot be!" she exclaimed with profound despair, her eyes searching Leonidas' face for any sign of deception. "…can it?"

The silence she got in response was all the answer she needed. A wail of agony and distress ripped from her throat, and, at that moment, Leonidas was sure he had not heard a more terrible sound in all his forty years of life. In her anguish, she buried her face in Leonidas' broad chest, sobs racking her body. Leonidas awkwardly patted her back in an attempt to comfort her, unaccustomed to emotional outbursts.

After what seemed like an eternity – but was, in reality, only a few minutes – she cried herself to sleep, having spent all of her energy. Leonidas unfastened his cloak, wrapping it tenderly around her sleeping form. He then stood up slowly so as not to jostle her and turned to address his men.

"We must not tarry here. We have lost enough time as it is. Pull yourselves together and move out," Leonidas ordered, his countenance stiff with emotion.

When no one moved to obey, Amycus took over, "You heard him, men! _Move out_!" Instantly, the soldiers snapped to attention and gathered up their weapons, marching back the way they came within strict, military lines.

Thenos echoed the same order, and the Arcadians followed after them within their own ranks. However, King Leonidas, along with Amycus, stayed behind.

Amycus, after a few moments pause, slowly approached a wooden cart that remained mostly untouched by the fire. Gently, he laid the boy's corspe on it, covering him up with its ash-darkened tarp covering. The captain then joined Leonidas where he waited, and both of them began to follow in the footsteps of the retreating soldiers.

When they were a few leagues away from the sight of the burning village, Amycus turned to Leonidas, concern etched into his features. "My king, do you think it wise to leave her wounds unattended?" he inquired with a low voice, his gaze dropping down to the woman in Leonidas' arms.

"We are but a few minutes away from our destination," Leonidas answered tentatively, as if even he doubted his own reasoning. "If the gods went through all the trouble of revealing her to us, they will sustain her life for at least a little longer."

The captain looked skeptical. "Well, what are we to do with her when we arrive? Surely we cannot-"

"She must remain amongst us," Leonidas forcefully interrupted. "There is no way we can allow any men to escort her back to the main gates of Sparta; we cannot spare anyone, what with the impossible odds we face in the war to come."

Amycus nodded curtly and looked away, both men content to travel the rest of the way to the Hot Gates in silence. As much as it pained him to involve an innocent woman in the massacre that was sure to occur, he could find no fault in his king's reasoning. They could spare no one.

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**plummet:** I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter…) I worked uber hard on it. R&R, please…


	4. The Storm

**plummet: **I hope y'all enjoy this chapter. I'm trying to make this as compelling and logical as possible. XD Lol, I wonder how long I'll keep that up…

**Disclaimer: **I own none of the characters copyrighted by Frank Miller, nor am I the creator of the movie 300, so…yeah. Lol. But no stealing my Sophronia, or I'll steal…your face. : P

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_**A Heart that Feels Not Is Dead**_

**Chapter Three:** The Storm

It took the Spartan and Arcadian armies a quarter of an hour to reach the entrance to the Hot Gates. The Hot Gates itself was a tall, narrow corridor composed of brown, weathered rock. It spanned a length of a few hundred feet and had a width large enough in parts to fit ten soldiers side-by-side, and small enough in others to perhaps fit only five. The majority of the Spartans observed the Hot Gates elatedly, the tragedy they had beheld recently not forgotten, but merely overshadowed by the rather bloody and glorious altercation to come.

The Arcadians, however, could not relate to the Spartans' utter happiness at the mere thought of warfare. To them, war was just that: war. It was the unfortunate outcome of a disagreement, nothing more. It wasn't their life; it wasn't what they were shaped to do. They were other trades by profession: potters, blacksmiths, sculptors…Their families were their number one priority, not administering death. As they beheld all the barely contained joy around them, their stomachs churned.

Though, there were a few amongst the Spartans whose attitudes could not be swayed by bloodlust. Leonidas, Amycus, and Dilios, the most seasoned of the Spartan warriors, were perhaps the only ones who understood – or cared to understand – the gravity of the situation at hand. If they failed in their attempt to thwart the Persian army, their city would burn, their families would be taken into slavery, and the rest of the men in their army reserves would eventually be slaughtered. Not that they lacked any faith in those remaining in Sparta, but they were realists. Xerxes numbers would eventually overtake them, and they would be finished.

King Leonidas himself gazed down grimly upon the battered woman he carried. He knew it was no fault of his that her village had burned, and its inhabitants had perished. There had been Spartan guards stationed amongst the villagers, and the attack had been a surprise one, but…He still held himself accountable. Every loss was his; he was a true king in every good sense of the word.

Eyes roaming over the woman's ashy face, he wondered absently what her name was, and what made her special enough for the gods to meddle in the Fates' affairs. At that very thought, she stirred, her hands immediately clutching at her head as the pain registered. She had a splitting headache, no doubt, what with the nasty, bruised gash on her right temple.

Panic struck her, and then, great sadness, as she adjusted to her physical agonies and recalled all that had happened. In the blink of an eye, she had lost everything: her loved ones, her home, everything familiar…and yet, as she took in her current predicament, she came to a realization. She still had her life, and as saddening a thought it was, soon the men around her would not have theirs. It was enough to halt her tears, though…at least, for now.

She turned her gaze to the man kind enough to carry her…her king, Leonidas. Her eyes flitted over his handsomely chiseled features, taking in his emerald-green eyes, light brown hair, tanned skin…Her gaze moved along the lines of the braid adorning the crown of his head, trailing down to the nape of his neck. The braid, symbolizing his kingship, meant everything and nothing. He was in a prominent position, she mused, but he was a man of flesh and blood all the same.

When she snapped out of her thoughts, a light blush crept across her soot-stained cheeks. Quickly averting her eyes, she bit her lip in embarrassment. Surely he would not appreciate such an open, unabashed stare! Berating herself mentally, she prayed he did not notice.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Leonidas had been watching her study him out of the corner of his eye, and he found her intense gaze unnerving. Later on, he would realize that he had never before cared or even thought about his feminine appeal…until that very moment during which her gaze had been so steadfastly fixed upon him.

"Where are we, my king?" She inquired in a soft, melodic voice, pulling Leonidas from his thoughts. Absently, he observed her voice was no longer hoarse, indicating that her lungs were healing.

"We are within the Hot Gates, milady," he answered not unkindly, looking down at her with a slight smile.

"So, we have arrived…" she spoke quietly, more to herself than him.

Leonidas' smile fell, his eyes searching hers, for what, she did not know. "You know of our fate?"

The woman nodded solemnly. "Yes. Here, you are to defend Sparta against the Persians, and…" She paused and would say no more, as if it pained her immensely to continue. He shared in her sentiments.

"I did not think the outer villages learned of the happenings in the main city so quickly," Leonidas responded lightly, attempting to lift the veil of tension that had fallen over them.

Her lips curved into a wry smile. "You would be surprised by how fast word travels when there are mouths to speak and ears to hear."

The king chuckled in agreement, the low, resonating sound sending a sensuous shiver down her spine. Internally, she was ashamed of her reaction to him. He was married, for goodness' sake! What was wrong with her?

'Well, as long as you only look,' her mind reasoned, 'how is that wrong?' To that, she had no retort.

"Look, Persians!" someone yelled from the front of the pack, drawing the attentions of the king and woman away from each other and to the vast expanse of sea before them. Floating on it were hundreds upon hundreds of Persian ships, their small, orange, square-shaped sails blowing violently in the strong sea wind. The ships were not at all threatening, considering how easily they were tossed about by the angry, churning water. The sky itself was much more menacing, shadowed with dark, foreboding storm clouds. Lightning flashed, its golden hue blinding; the succeeding thunder boomed loudly, its aftershock almost painful.

"Let us witness as these motherless dogs are embraced by the loving arms of Greece herself!" Dilios exclaimed with mild amusement, a small smirk adorning his face and Amycus' alike.

Leonidas just grinned cockily; to him, the irony of the present situation was most welcome. "True," he said. "It does look like rain."

The young woman craned her neck reflexively up towards the heavens, held captive by the lightning's rhythmic dance and the thunder's heavy tempo. It distracted her, and for that, she was grateful.

For most, the excitement in the air was palpable. Some of the younger Spartan soldiers clapped each other enthusiastically on the back; most everyone – including the Arcadians – wore a grin from ear to ear. The gods were on their side, after all.

Suddenly, Leonidas felt a tap on his shoulder. His head moved downward of its own accord to gaze upon the woman he was cradling, his face expectant.

"My king, you may put me down, if you like," she spoke tentatively, smiling shyly. "I may be injured, but I believe I am capable of standing."

Leonidas laughed lightly and set her down gently on her feet, his arm resting on her back should her legs be too weak to support her. "Of course, milady…" he drew out his sentence as if asking for her name.

"Sophronia," the smiling woman responded. "My name is Sophronia."

"Sophronia…" Leonidas said slowly, testing out the unfamiliar syllables of her name. "That is not a name I am familiar with."

Sophronia was silent beside him so long he figured she had not heard him. Finally, she responded, her face drawn and eyes shining with unshed tears, "No, it is not very common...Though it was my aunt's name." She left it at that.

Leonidas, his observation skills sharp, knew the wound he reopened went deep and was not fresh, but then…who was he to pry? Everyone had a right to their secrets. He would know; he kept many himself.

"My deepest sympathies for your loss," Leonidas murmured. Even to him, though, it sounded empty and meaningless.

Sophronia said nothing. Instead, she wrapped his cloak tighter around her form. Her haunted eyes stared intently into the distance, the tears trapped within them magnifying her multi-colored irises.

Then suddenly, the sky burst open, rain pounding down around and on them mercilessly. Everyone was soaked within minutes, though no one seemed to notice or care. What had their attention was the angry Grecian sea as she violently claimed what she deemed hers: the hundreds of helpless, Persian vessels.

The soldiers were frenzied in their joy, pumping their weapons of choice high in the air and shouting victoriously. A few stood out in their grim stillness.

King Leonidas studied the woman beside him, her dark, wet hair whipping out behind her in the storm winds, rain droplets streaming down her face. Somehow, he knew she was crying. He saw it in her eyes and the utter defeat of her posture. All the aspects of happiness he was no stranger to, as well as anger and hatred…but sadness? He had never cried. At least, not since he was a wee babe. He was taught to despise such weakness, but now, as he watched the innocent, broken woman before him, her heart so trustingly exposed to the cruel, groping hands of the world…He knew that even free men wore chains, and, for the first time ever, their weight was almost suffocating.

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**plummet:** Sorry it took me so long to finish this. I had tons of skewl work to do. Plus, for some ungoshly reason, wouldn't lemme upload my chapter:-(

Oh, and about the 'not-saying-Sophronia's-name' thing, it just seemed weird writing it in. I mean, with my omniscient point of view, you know? Because like, nobody else featured in the chapter knew who she was at first. So anyways, R&R pwease. -le happy dance-


	5. A Short Reprieve

**plummet:** I know I haven't posted a chapter in the longest time, but...Your reviews inspired me to write this. Thanks so much, for all of them…I hope you guys and gals decide to stick with this story, despite my very irregular updates…Lol.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything, except for a part of this plot and any characters you may not recognize.

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_**A Heart that Feels Not Is Dead**_

**Chapter Four: **A Short Reprieve

Recently, the rain had thinned out to little more than a drizzle, and a few Spartan and Arcadian soldiers made off to find some dry kindling for a fire. Sophronia inwardly sighed as she collapsed onto the boulder behind her. She hung her head in her hands, exhausted emotionally and physically, the pain of her injuries finally catching up with her.

It was over now; all of the Persian ships within a human line of sight had been utterly demolished by the powerful sea waves and storm winds. It all seemed so easy to her, though…too easy and deceiving, like the eye of a hurricane. There had to be more ships, but yet…everyone seemed to believe this to be the end, or at least, a good way close to it.

She glanced over to her far left at the king, studying the expression on his face as he conversed quietly with the captain. Her suspicions were confirmed; from what she could make out, they did not believe the war to be won so easily, either. Normally, she would have felt a little prideful at her correct assessment, but at the moment, she felt as if her heart was in her throat, suffocating her…She struggled to draw breath.

Running her hands through her wet, scraggly hair, she tried to look on the bright side. At least the rain had cleaned her dirty face and nasty, blood-matted hair. Flushing a little, she weakly drew the wet cape closer to her body. How she must look to them, torn clothing and all…She had always been shy and self-conscious, and being surrounded by gorgeous, well-built men did nothing to help the matter.

'_But wait…' _she thought, confused. _'Cloak…I have his…Oh dear.' _

Her flush deepened considerably. How uncouth of her, to be so thoughtless of the needs of her king! After a moment's indecision, she took a deep breath to calm her nervously beating heart and stood up shakily on her feet. She waited until the captain left Leonidas' side to approach him. Stopping her advance directly behind him, she lightly tapped him on his shoulder to get his attention. His head snapped backward, eyes softening ever so slightly when they fell upon her slight form.

Unfastening the cloak from around her neck, she made to hand it to him, but…he just looked at her, mild amusement etched into his features. All of sudden, her confidence vanished, a wave of embarrassment left in its wake. What had she done wrong?

"My king?" Sophronia inquired. Maybe if she explained herself, he would stop looking at her like she was fool. "Here is your cloak back…Thank you for letting me use it; I was very grateful for its warmth." He smirked wider, if that was possible. She shook the crimson cloth for emphasis. Perhaps she wasn't being clear enough…?

Leonidas chuckled then, and Sophronia bowed her head in mortification, the embarrassed flush returning to her cheeks. _'Pathetic…'_ She mentally berated herself. The truth was, the carefully built walls around her heart had crumbled due to recent events. Her heart was left bare and exposed to the world, even the weakest of barbs able to cause her great pain…It was almost too much for her to bear. She began to make her hasty retreat when Leonidas reached out and gently grasped her shoulder. He turned her back around to face him, all the mirth wiped instantly from his face.

"You misunderstood my amusement, milady," he said gently, his deep, calm voice like a soothing balm on her wounded, anxious soul. "If you only could comprehend the nature of men, you would clutch onto this mere piece of fabric for dear life." He then took his cloak from Sophronia, swiftly refastening it around her neck before she could protest. Her brows drew together in confusion. What was he getting at?

"How can I put this lightly?" he continued without hesitation, a smirk relighting his face. "Men are very basic creatures, especially us soldiers. We are…deprived of a woman's warmth for very long periods of time in our profession, and as your tattered attire is very revealing…You may draw much more attention to yourself than you would appreciate."

Sophronia was left speechless and wide-eyed. Before then, she had naively thought that her presence among them would not be a burden on anyone, but who was she fooling? She was nothing but a huge temptation and distraction, something these good men most definitely did _not_ need in a time of war and suffering. And, all things considering, she felt even more vulnerable than she thought possible.

Noticing her shocked yet pained expression, he spoke again, "Do not worry. I will make it known to everyone that you are to be left alone. However, I suggest you do not wander into the Arcadian ranks, for I, as a Spartan king, do not hold much power over their actions."

Sophronia slowly nodded her head, still dazed. From what, she did not know. Suddenly, she grew tired again…oh so very tired. But strangely, she was not hungry, although she had not eaten anything in more than a day. Swaying on her feet, she almost fell over, but Leonidas caught her in his arms, pulling her to his chest reflexively. Sophronia's breath left her in surprise; she was not expecting him to catch her. Her head, coincidentally, rested directly over his heart. She could hear its steady, slow rhythm, and it calmed her. She closed her eyes, and just listened.

_**Ba-bump…Ba-bump…Ba-bump…**_

"Are you alright, milady?" Leonidas' voice broke through her trance.

In response to his inquiry, Sophronia brought her hands up to his chest and pushed herself back a bit in order to look up at him. She tilted her head to the side, as if contemplating something. Leonidas was immediately struck again by the hue of her eyes. They were so unique; he had never thought it was possible for eyes to have that many colors, and yet…There she stood before him, all his previously formed assumptions most obviously negated. Brown eyes were the most common amongst the Spartans, yet there were a few with eyes of green or blue. His eyes were green, but until now, he never really thought anything of it. A wave of déjà vu overcame him as he stood there, silently watching her watch him, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he had seen her somewhere before…

Ever so suddenly, Sophronia began to step out of his impromptu embrace. For a brief moment, Leonidas blinked confusedly at the abruptness of her departure, but he masked it quickly with indifference. When she had removed herself to the proper distance, Sophronia self-consciously pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders under his unnerving gaze, her eyes darting everywhere but in his general direction. She had lingered in his presence far longer than propriety allowed, and she was ashamed of her blatant folly.

"Thank you for your honesty and kindness to me on this day, my king; I am forever in your debt," she spoke with such sincerity that her gratitude, to him, was nearly tangible. He was momentarily astounded by the range and strength of her emotions. Spartans, from birth, were schooled into emotionless warriors, but this woman standing so humbly before him...She defied everything he believed in, and yet, no matter how thoroughly he searched…He could not despise her for it.

Leonidas assumed his kingly role and said, quite curtly but not unkindly, "You are welcome."

Sophronia then bowed deeply from the waist, as was custom, and left his presence to assist a small group of soldiers who were preparing a meal beside one of the more recently made fires. He watched her as she worked diligently beside his men, a soft smile lighting her face as if a task as simple as preparing food brought her the greatest of joys. He frowned in puzzlement at her demeanor. How was it that she could recover so quickly after such an ordeal? Her entire family…gone, and yet, there she was, smile in place, as if nothing of the sort had ever happened. But why…why…yes, why was the question. Why was his mind pondering on such things? This was someone he just met, and a woman, at that!

He shook his head lightly to clear it, angry at himself for his mind's frivolous wanderings. Striding over to a log resting within the Gates, he sat himself down, a stern look adorning his features. At the present time, he had much more important things to think about, and they did not involve women and their ever-changing emotions.

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**plummet:** Hope this chapter was worth the wait...-sweat drop- R&R, please...and thank you.


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